


When Laughter Died

by orphan_account



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-06 00:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12805746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Belle has a conversation with Mrs Potts about their old habits and reactions to the beast's/Adam's presence when he enters a room. But old habits are a force of nature onto themselves, and one afternoon's conversation is surely not enough on its own. (A work in progress that probably will have about three or four chapters)





	When Laughter Died

**Author's Note:**

> Originally part of an older series of one shots I did recently, I extracted this to be its own standalone story and also because it was calling for me to write another chapter (probably more like another two or three chapters) to it.
> 
> Also, the part where Mrs Potts tells Belle how Adam had come to see newborn Chip when he was born, was very much inspired by/based on @tinydooms‘ gorgeous fanfic, More Than Kin, which everyone needs to go and read right now.

Belle could think of nothing more cosy than being curled up in a big, soft armchair with a blanket tucked around her legs and a book in her hands. The fireplace had been lit by one of the other servants, swamping the room with glorious warmth. Lulled into a peaceful sense of being, Belle let herself be drawn into the world of her newest read, one the Beast had recommended to her just the previous day. So far, he had yet to offer a recommendation that failed to fascinate and hold her interest from beginning to end. 

Yet even despite this cosy afternoon, something still stuck in the back of her mind, snagged in her thoughts even despite her deep dedication to her current read. It was only from the other afternoon, when she had caught him reading in the private rose garden that had been his mother’s special place. 

_Laughter dies when I enter a room._

How awful, she had thought, still empathising with him all the same. She knew what that felt like, to be all alone in a crowd full of people who liked each other but her. It had her wondering how long that had gone on; from the way he spoke of it, it sounded like he had been used to it most of his life, even before the curse. 

_And they are so kind too._

Surely the servants, as much as she, had seen how much he had changed, shown his true colours, the person he really had been all along. She didn’t doubt Mrs Potts at all that he had once been a sweet, kind boy until his father twisted him up into being so cold after his mother’s passing. Even only days after the wolf battle and the drama that had come thereafter, she remembered how different he seemed when he’d gifted her the library. The way his voice became softer, almost shier--yes, that was it, shier--and how surprised he seemed to be at his own words. He’d even cracked a joke, one of the last things she imagined a creature--no, not a creature, but what else to call him?--such as him to do. 

“Enjoying that book, I see, dear?” 

“Huh?” Belle, jolted out of her part-reading, part-musing, blinked up from her book to see Mrs Potts and Chip had come in on their tea tray. She hadn’t even heard them come in until Mrs Potts had greeted her. “It’s a beautiful book, thank you.” 

“Would you like a cup of tea to go with it?” 

“That would be wonderful!” 

“Alright Chip, hold still, there’s a dear. Careful now.” 

“I can pick him up--”

But Chip had already leaped from the tea tray to the endtable next to the armchair. 

“Hullo Belle!” 

Belle set her book down on her lap, folding a corner over so she didn’t lose her place. 

“Hello again, Chip. Good day?” 

“As good a day as a cup can have.” 

Despite Chip’s perky voice, Belle felt a pang of pity for him nevertheless. To imagine, being a boy full of energy and stuck as a fragile teacup. She picked him up and sipped a bit of the steaming tea. When she finished her sip, she set the cup back down on the endtable, readjusting her posture in the chair as she now addressed Mrs Potts. 

“Have you seen how much your Master has changed?” Belle asked her, thinking again of the Beast. “He’s changed so much.” 

Mrs Potts beamed, as much as a teapot could do. “All thanks to you, dearie.” 

“I absolutely believe you when you say he had once been good and kind before...everything.” 

“He was a good boy,” Mrs Potts said, “You have done well for him.” 

“Did he do anything good for you before? Even despite how he was?” 

Mrs Potts did not hesitate. “Yes, yes, even if he didn’t show it. When I was with Chip, he made sure I was comfortable and everything in his own way.” 

“He did?”

“Mama says he came in to see me the day I was born,” Chip said. 

Mrs Potts nodded, “That’s right, Chip, he did, as I always told you.” She turned back to address Belle again. “And he had very little tolerance for violence toward us--his servants. If anyone tried to hurt us, they were in  _very_ hot water.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, love. If he saw anyone hurt us--or any of the other staff--he would get very angry. If the offender was another member of staff, they were  _very_ fortunate if they were not fired. That was one of the few times where we had hope he was not completely lost to us.” 

Belle wondered momentarily what his reaction would have been to her smacking Lumiere with a stool when they first met. Probably not good.

“Was he ever violent towards you?” 

“Never, my dear,  _never_. He might shout at us but, as they say, his bark is worse than his bite. In this respect, he was very much unlike his father.” 

Belle found herself easily able to believe this.

_Whoever cursed them in this way would surely have given them less fragile forms had they had an idea he would break them._

How very fortunate, then, that the very first of the servants she had met was Lumiere--candelabras, at least, weren’t very easily breakable. She shuddered to imagine if it had been Mrs Potts, let alone Chip. 

A few minutes of silence passed, during which Belle drained the last of the tea, thanking Chip, who hopped back on the teatray beside his mother. 

“You know, Mrs Potts, I was talking with the Beast the other day in his private place.” 

“The white roses.” 

“He mentioned to me something that’s troubled me since he confided in me.” Belle took a deep breath, hoping she wasn’t overstepping any boundaries. “He told me, and I quote, ‘when I enter a room, laughter dies’.” 

Mrs Potts looked at her with a mix of surprise and consternation.

“Whatever did he mean by that?” 

Belle shifted her legs a little under the blanket. “We could hear you laughing and having fun elsewhere while we were talking together under the white roses. I’d said how much you obviously knew how to have a good time, and that’s what he told me.” 

Mrs Potts stayed quiet, letting her continue. 

“And I dare say, in all honesty, that it hurts him very much when that happens, even if you don’t mean it to do so. Has this always happened?” 

“I believe it has been so for a very long time, Miss,” Mrs Potts said, and Belle could hear the regret in her words, “He has never told us otherwise.” 

“I don’t think he has felt like he could approach you for a very long time, even before the curse. No wonder he never told you anything.” 

“I can believe that.” 

“Do you--do you mind if I may suggest something?” 

Mrs Potts looked at her keenly. “Go on, Belle.” 

“Have you thought why he may have entered the room before? And I mean you generally.” 

“I believe it has always been to want something from us, never to join us.”

Belle tilted her head this way and that. “Really? Always?” 

The teapot stayed silent a while, musing on the question. 

“I don’t think it was always because he wanted you to do something for him.” Belle set her book aside on the endtable, leaning her elbow on it. “Had you ever considered he had wanted to see what the fuss was about? I think he’s been lonelier than you think all this time. I feel part of him has always wished he could join in with the fun. I could sense it that afternoon. It was a...longing, you might say. A longing.” She winced, realising she’d begun rambling. “I’m sorry, Mrs Potts, I've been rambling--”

“No, no, dearie, you’re quite right.” Mrs Potts quickly assured. “We have neglected him for too long. I have always thought in the back of my mind we needed to change that. He most certainly has been lonely for far too long.” 

“Then why don’t you? Why don’t you do something to change that, now he’s becoming a better person? You say you care about him, that you did nothing to show him you cared, and I like to think you want to change that. You can change that.” 

Mrs Potts sighed, “You’re quite right again, Miss. But understand, we have been doing this for a  _very_  long time, I believe, to the point we have never noticed how we react when he enters a room, even now. A force of habit, one might call it.” 

“Even though he’s becoming more like the boy you used to know?” 

“He really is isn’t he?” Mrs Potts’ voice became warmer, “The real Ad--prince of a fellow is coming back to us.” 

“Do--do you think next time...” 

“It’s hard to break a habit.” 

“It’s far harder to break a habit when you don’t know you’re doing it. But when you know, then there’s a chance of changing it if it is a bad one. It won’t undo what’s been done overnight, but I think it’ll be a nice start if you were more welcoming if he enters the room when you’re all having an excellent chat or leisuretime, and not immediately killing the laughter and fun.” Belle grimaced inside, hoping she hadn’t sounded too harsh. “My father always told me I never mince words.” 

“And you don’t, my dear,” Mrs Potts sounded very appreciative, “Sometimes direct and blunt honesty from another is exactly what is needed to show the error of another’s ways.” 

“It’s not going to be easy, it’s not--”

“I understand, dear, I’ve enough years behind me to know such a thing will never be easy. Believe me.” 

Belle gave her a little smile, nodding. “I believe you.” 

The teapot gave a little sad sigh. “If I were--if I could, I would give you a hug right now. I can’t tell you how grateful I am you were so honest about this.” 

"I think I can be  _too_ honest. The villagers in Villeneuve don’t like me much for it.”

“Poppet, your honesty is very refreshing. Goodness knows, such honesty has been most desperately needed for a long time. Thank you, Miss.” 

“So you’ll try?” 

The teapot gives her another smile. “With all our hearts, I can promise you that, Belle.”


End file.
